


Stroke of Luck

by lyricwritesprose



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Female Presenting Crowley, Gen, I think they were actually aiming for somewhere in the middle, Male Presenting Aziraphale, Pride, Queer Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Transphobia, or at least the POV character perceives Crowley as female presenting, the transphobia does not go unchallenged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:29:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29710281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose
Summary: A girl named Avril is having an ugly confrontation with her mother at Pride, and then things get . . . weird.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 83
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #13 "Luck"





	Stroke of Luck

“You are coming home with me, young man—”

_ “I am not a young man!” _ Avril despised how her voice sounded when she shouted, and she despised how arguing with her mother made her stomach tie itself into knots, and she despised the ghastly feeling of wanting to cry and not quite being able to, and all in all it made her want to throw up. “I am not a young man,” she repeated, forcing her voice to steadiness, “and I am not coming home with you.”

“You most certainly  _ aaaiiiii!” _

Avril jumped back.

Her mother was, as always, in fancy trousers and a blouse. Today the color of choice was faded rose. And her faded rose trousers had, inexplicably,  _ caught fire. _

She slapped at them, still yelling, ignoring shouted advice to roll on the ground until a well-meaning bear knocked her over.

Avril backed away, shaking her head. Weird thing,  _ weird _ thing—

“Strange things happen at Pride sometimes,” a casual voice said beside her. “Especially to people who keep cheap lighters in their pocket.” The speaker was a tall, skinny trans woman in dark glasses. “Get too hot standing on the pavement, and  _ foosh! _ Bad luck for her, good luck for you.”

She was joined on the other side by a shorter, rounder man. “Why don’t you sit down over here for a bit, dear girl, and catch your breath.”

_ Here _ was a bench. Avril sat down, let the man press a chilled bottle of water into her hands  _ (be sure to recycle that, my dear, I understand it’s tremendously important these days) _ and tried to process. She didn’t do well with crisis. Less with inexplicable crisis.

_ Not very angelic of you, was it? _

_ I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re attempting to insinuate. _

You _ know perfectly well that wasn’t me, and  _ I _ know perfectly well that wasn’t me— _

The whispered conversation cut off as Avril looked up. “My mum,” she said, and then struggled with the whole concept of her mum.

“You don’t have to go home with her if you don’t want to,” the man assured her. “I know, oh, simply  _ oodles _ of people in London who can help a person in need, and you do seem to be in need. On the whole, I would say it was a tremendous stroke of luck that you ran into us.”

His companion gave him a glance that somehow managed to be very fond and very sardonic at the same time. “Absolutely coincidental, I’m sure.”

“Hush. At any rate, you sit there and finish your water. Don’t rush, it’s bad for the digestion.”

“Yes, but my mum—”

“Oh, I doubt she’ll be a problem. These things have a way of working themselves out.”

“Yes,” Avril said, “but my mum doesn’t smoke.”

The two exchanged a rather mismatched glance. Embarrassed on the man’s part, amused on the woman’s.

“Rather extraordinary stroke of luck, really,” the man said vaguely.

“It’s Pride in Soho,” the woman added. “It happens.”


End file.
